Citations and Casseroles

Posted on Wednesday May 4th, 2022 @ 4:18am by Lieutenant Oscar Vladinchi & Gunnery Sergeant Maximilian Pfaffenheim

3,008 words; about a 15 minute read

Mission: S1-A1-Ep. 2: Our Foremost Virtues
Location: USS Poseidon; Deck 6 - Crew Mess Hall/Lounge
Timeline: Current
Tags: 2395

[ON]

Staff Sergeant Maximilian Pfaffenheim sighed in frustration as he stared at the PADD in his hand, idly poking at his potato casserole which was slowly getting cold. "Who in the universe would come up with something like this? The damn Borg? The Obsidian Order? The sheer length could rival a Cardassian novel!", he cursed, a little louder than he had intended to.

Oscar sighed as he entered the mess hall, the entirety of the stress he had endured through his long 14 hour shift slowly disappearing as he eyed the replicators. He went over over and ordered himself some comfort food; pancakes, eggs, and something he had come to recently like - hasbrowns. He added some coffee with it and was about to find a place until he noticed the Staff Sergeant some tables down. He smiled and proceeded over, remembering their last encounter.

"Mind if I sit?" Oscar asked as he approached the table. His accent was still heavily influenced by his Russian heritage, but there was considerable improvement in it to a more common tongue. "Looks like you're having fun with something there," he added in an attempt at jest.

"Oh, Lieutenant?", Max half-asked. "Of course, sir, have a seat." He rubbed his forehead and put the PADD on the table. "'Having fun' is... one way of putting it, I suppose. I mean, writing the actual thing wasn't too bad, but the formalities are as confusing and tedious as ever.", he told Vladinchi, gesturing at the display and subsequently noticing (to his disappointment) that the casserole had mostly gone cold now. The PADD displayed text from some kind of regulatory manual on the one side, and what appeared to be a paper in progress of editing on the other. "How are things in Security, anyway? What with the refugees on board - the platoon isn't really involved in that, and for good reason, I say. We're not exactly 'people persons', after all."

Vladinchi nodded as Max went off on his explanation. He sat after being given permission, getting comfortable and starting on his breakfast meal. He chanced a glance over at the PADD to take note of the material, cringing a bit at the implications. It was always hard memorizing critical material vital for the operation of some department or procedure. He shivered at the memories of his classes on Security Anti-Boarding Operations.

"The refugees are settled in just fine," Oscar reported. "It was difficult at first, but you'd be surprised how many rooms we actually can manufacture and place into operation. This ship was designed exactly for this purpose, you know. She assisted with the evacuation of Romulus and the aftermath, from what I understand. We followed the guidebooks left behind by those security officers and were able to reactivate unused crew bunk rooms down on decks five and six. They may not have the privacy they exactly want but they have a bed and facilities."

Oscar seemed proud of himself at that, giving a smile as he munched on his hashbrowns briefly. He then pointed a fork at the PADD quickly for emphasis as he asked, "For a test?"

Max shook his head, swallowing a bite of potato. "Worse. A paper.", he commented. "'Outlook on Future Developments in Secondary Breaching Tool Applications' - the Corps wants to encourage some, what's the word, knowledge sharing, and that apparently includes First Sergeants nowadays." He tapped around on the PADD for a few seconds, opening up a directory of a journal database full of articles with similarly Marine-related titles and handing it to Oscar. "Thing is, writing it isn't the hard part. Making sure it corresponds to the formal requirements... I've already wasted two days and I'm not even half done!"

"By the Great Winter," murmured Oscar as he reviewed the PADD. His eyes slowly went wide, then expression stern as the realization of just how convoluted this was dawned on him. He shook his head, handing the PADD back to Max.

"One of the first lessons in Security at the Academy is proper breaching technique in the event of a hostage situation," Oscar said as he set the PADD down so Max could grab it. "I think what they're getting at here is a similar technique. It seems obscured to me though, since from my understanding you Marines are kept in reserve in the event of higher escalation. It's very rare to see starships with a Marine contingent from my understanding, and those that do are purposely designed to hold and utilize them - such as the Poseidon and her anti-piracy duties. I think looking back several months as the battles we've endured, and the multiple boardings, proves that."

Oscar took a moment to enjoy his food and drink before continuing. Giving them both a chance to catch up on the food, he swallowed a last bite and spoke again.

"So, about these regulations," Oscar said as he continued after finishing the bite of food. "On most modern starships such as the Nebula and Galaxy, Marine detachments are not common unless the mission requirements specifically state their use. Instead, Starfleet has started to train Security on Marine boarding and security measures. In my opinion it's a lackluster attempt at centralizing authority and forces, but I digress. One of the things they teach is that for breaches with hostages, phaser in low yield must be used. Higher yield phasers settings have a possibility to breach doors and kill occupants behind if the operator is not properly trained, however lower yield settings have a higher chance of survival in the case of accidental discharge on a civilian. In effect, I'm required to aim at specific points at the door I'm entering and keep focused there no matter what and maintain trigger discipline. That's what I recall from my training in that area."

He gave a moment for his words to digest before adding, "Does that help any, comrade?"

Max blinked and hesitated for a second. "Um... I might've worded it confusingly. I didn't mean the tactics and combat regulations, after all I'm being asked to write about 'em, and stars help any NCO who doesn't know the regs. By 'formal requirements', I was referring to the ones specifically for the text. One moment." He tapped around on the PADD again, handing it back to Vladinchi. It now displayed the text which Max had been scratching his head over for most of his lunch break, titled 'Starfleet Scientific Journal Format & Citation Standards, v. 2395-2, Appendix G'. "Some genius thought that applying a standard developed for and used by the Science department, to a Marine Corps journal was a good idea."

"I appreciate the rundown though. From my understanding, our techniques are usually a lot more 'hard and fast', than Security's, which makes sense. Our jobs are very different most of the time, after all." He took a bite from the casserole. "And yes, we're not all too common these days... I do have my own opinions on that, as with some other things. I should probably write a paper on *that* someday, come to think of it."

Oscar took the PADD and examined the highlighted entry as designated by the PADDs computer. He read the rule, a confused look on his expression as he looked from the PADD then to Max, then back again to the PADD before handing it back. He shook his head with a heavy sigh.

"The confusing nature of government rules and regulations shall always confuse me," he stated as he ate a huge bite of food. He took a moment to chew on Max's response to the Marine situation, swallowing his food before responding in kind.

"From my personal perspective, I find it extremely distressing that the more Starfleet wants to demilitarize itself, the more it is required to rearm itself," Oscar said. "The Marines, for example, would make an excellent point of fact on this topic. I encourage you as one with first hand experience to write that book. As a seasoned security officer I can assure you, having fought alongside you twice now since my assignment here, that the Marines are a far better and more capable fighting force than us security officers are. In my experience, it's like comparing civil servants to dedicated soldiers. You just can't excuse or negate the experience necessary that a seasoned soldier has."

"I wouldn't put it that... disparagingly, but that's exactly my point.", Max agreed quickly - finally someone who shared some of his views. "In my opinion, Security and Marines fulfill different roles that only seem similar on the surface. The Marine Corps is a combat force, plain and simple, and that is what we train to excel at. Security, on the other hand, is fundamentally a, well, security force. You investigate crime, run Starfleet's opsec, provide for civilians, and so on and so forth... this all requires a completely different mindset than that of a simple soldier, and that is - as I see it - a good thing." He paused for a moment. "Not that Security officers can't be good soldiers, the Dominion War really showed otherwise, but, well- you know what I mean, sir."

At the mention of the Dominion War, Oscars expression changed. He had been giving a smile as he listened to the reply, using his fork to his food. At the mention of the war, his expression turned cold. His movements went still as his eyes went distant. Memories of the war flooded into his mind. One particular memory persisted, and for a minute his eyebrow flinched. He hadn't breathed during that experience, and when his mind came to he exhaled sharply and took in a huge breath. He looked around briefly as if remembering where he was.

"What was that?" Oscar asked, genuinely confused as he looked up at Max briefly before his eyes signaled remembering. He expressed sombered and, slowly, he ate another bite. After swallowing, he said, "Yeah, the war. Made everything different. I know what you mean."

There was a long moment of reflection going on for Oscar before he dared to speak again. He adjusted his shoulders as if recovering from a particularly frightening event. Clearing his throat, he looked up at Max.

"I think the Dominion War was the exception. Everyone became a soldier, regardless of position," he remarked with a hint of guilt in his voice. "I think it you do write this book, it'll help clarify that as well. Maybe add a chapter on the significance of the war and the aftermath of its impact. The very fact we have Marines in this day and age is a good reference to the influence the war had on our society, I think."

Max immediately noticed as Oscar tensed up and immediately regretted his choice of words. 'Why mention the war? God, you idiot!', he thought to himself; he'd meant to avoid offending the Security officer, not trigger painful memories. His expression similarly shifted as he realized the faux-pas, and he reflexibly rubbed his forehead as the Lieutenant recovered.

"Yes, I suppose that would be a good addition... sir, I didn't mean to- I should've thought about- ...I'm sorry if I reminded you about something that- well...", he uncharacterisitcally began fumbling his words while trying to apologize.

"It's fine, Max," Oscar assured as he gave a small smile towards his friend and compatriot. His eyes lingered down to his food, however, and hinted that it probably wasn't all that fine. He took another bite, sipped more of his drink, before his eyes began to glaze again. This time, as he tensed, he recalled everything verbally. His mind pushing forward the traumatic event, making him relive it another time. This time, he had someone to tell it to.

"The Poseidon was under the Command of Captain Paladin," he said, his words soft and distant. Body still and rigid as he recalled. "The Commodore's Grandfather, to be exact, Henry T. Paladin. A good man. A solid man. Trusted me. We had history. Brought me on as his Chief of Security. The Poseidon got called into Operaton Return, the engagement to free the Bajoran Sector from Dominion rule. We got separated from the main attack group near Bajor during the initial phases of the Operation. The USS Mustang, a Steamrunner, was the ship we had been assigned to escort along with two other Sabre-class ships. We came under attack by a patrol of Jem'Hadar warships. The initial fight went well, everything was synchronized, and I kept my part clean. Wasn't until an hour into the engagement that cracks began to form in our small fleet. The Jem'Hadar pressed the attack despite losing two of their six ships.

They attacked enmass on one of the Sabre-class ships, the USS Stienseon I think. Killed it instantly with a concentrated attack. We retaliated with photon torpedoes, blew two Jem'Hadar warships up - actually blew one into the other, I think. The Poseidon happened to be their next target for the concentrated assault and I missed a shot that would have likely derailed their attack. Instead of redirecting them away with a concentrated line of photon torpedoes, I missed. The Poseidon was not spared. We suffered catastrophically."

Oscar watched as the memory played out. Captain Paladin gave the order to fire, Oscar did so, and they all watched in horror as the line of photon torpedoes missed. The incoming Jem'Hadar warship grew larger on the viewscreen and for a brief moment, Oscar and Henry shared a somber glance. It was just a moment. There was no blame. No shaming. Just understanding. Mistakes happen. Oscar's expression was between horrified and heartbroken, while Henry's was committed and assured. Henry simply gave a nod to his Chief of Security, whom he trusted even then at that moment. Then the universe shook and everything exploded in blinding flashes of light.

His body rigid and shaking for a moment, Oscar briefly gripped his side in some episode of phantom pain. He took in a heavy breath he had forgotten to, looking up to see Max again. He cleared his throat as he looked down and away. He continued slowly.

"Part of some console that exploded was shot into my side, nearly fatally injuring me. I got off lucky compared to most, especially the Captain. I watched as after I was struck, a large piece of the bridges support structure fell on and crushed him into....into pieces. Killed him instantly. I was bleeding out, barely managing, and half of the bridge crew had been killed. Rest took over critical stations. I maintained mine and kept firing, blindly. Commander T'Miak, Henry's second in command, took over and rallied the ship. He saved us all. Kept us focused. The medics came and mended me as I fired back, helped blow another Jem'Hadar warship up before he pushed the rest away. After that the USS Mustang and the remaining Sabre escorted the Poseidon back to drydock limping on a prayer."

He sighed, eyes closing, the memory over. When he opened them, he looked up at Max. His expression was kind, but pained. However his shoulders felt lighter. As if talking alone had helped a great deal. He smiled softly.

"Chief Engineer Samson gave his life to hold the ship together, took mortal wounds and despite that worked the energy grid to support structural integrity. Had he not done that, I was told in drydock the Poseidon would have split into three pieces. We'd of ended the story of this grand ship before her time. It was a helluva time, the Dominion war."

Max was, to put it mildly, in awe as he heard what Oscar had to say. He had known that the Lieutenant had served quite intensively in the war and had suffered much more than simply physical wounds, but such a vivid description came unexpected. "I...", he began, unsure how to reply, his mind visibly racing to put together a proper response.

"Sir, to be honest, I don't know what say.", he began, deciding it would probably better to just admit to that fact rather than fumble words for another several seconds. "I'm really sorry to remind you of painful memories like that... as someone who was still a kid at the time, I didn't have any direct experience with the war, apart from my mother being away from home. I'm... not really used to hearing someone talk about it in such detail; she never did, anyway."

Oscar looked away briefly as it caught doing something taboo or uncouth. He gave a nod to Max's reply and gave a moment for himself to finish his plate. The silence that stretched felt like an eternity for Oscar, but likely was only a few scant seconds for the Staff Sergeant. The Lieutenant used a napkin to wipe his mouth before rubbing his hands. He set the napkin on his plate, finished his drink, then set that on top of the dirty, empty plate. His utensils next with soft clanking, despite their replicated nature. He then looked up to Max.

"It has been a pleasure seeing you again, my friend," Oscar said with a smile. "I have to admit, I did not intend this day to be the day my demons confessed their sins. I appreciate you listening to them. My shoulders are considerably more lightened and I hope what was lost from me was not added to you."

Another moment of silence, a look of guilt briefly, then a smile again. "We should do this again sometime," he invited, concluding as he grabbed his dirty dishes ready to depart. "Perhaps with me more focused on your issues as it should of been originally, my apologies for that, my friend."

"Oh- no need to apologize, sir!", Max quickly responded. "And yes, I think we should do this again sometime." He looked to his PADD. "Just without the citations, hopefully."


[OFF]


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Lieutenant Oscar Vladinchi
Security Officer
USS Poseidon

&

Staff Sergeant Maximilian Pfaffenheim
First Sergeant, Marine Detachment
USS Poseidon

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